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Tag Archive for: History
Tag Archive for: History
John Monash: the case against a field marshal’s baton
Given calls to promote General Sir John Monash posthumously to field marshal, and with the Sir John Monash Centre at Villers-Bretonneux to be opened on Anzac Day, we need to ensure that his substantial achievements are best considered, recognised and honoured in the context of their time.
A century of sustained analysis of wartime and post-war records more clearly establishes that context than many popular beliefs during World War I and the immediate post-war era allowed at the time.
This isn’t just an historical issue, not least because public consideration of Australia’s current and future strategic security situation is often side-tracked by two pernicious and inter-related tendencies.
First is the cultural habit of exaggerating or otherwise misunderstanding Australia’s collective and individual contributions to victory in both world wars. Many Australians wrongly believe that Australia was sucked into these ‘foreign wars’, at disproportionate cost, and that further contributions to preserving the stability of the rules-based international system are therefore unnecessary or discretionary.
With this comes the ‘myth of the digger’, whereby Australians are seemingly such natural super-soldiers that defending Australia is somehow easy and doesn’t require sustained contemplation, attention and national investment.
Second is the related cultural habit of most Australians only thinking about national defence on Anzac Day and then mainly in historical terms. This tendency is exacerbated by the fact that mythology, rather than detailed knowledge of facts and their implications, drives such nostalgia.
John Monash became a military reservist in 1884, aged 19. From 1887 he served as a garrison artillery officer (including as battery commander for 11 years), followed by six years as a lieutenant colonel heading the Victorian section of the new Australian Intelligence Corps. From June 1913 he commanded 13th Infantry Brigade.
On the outbreak of World War I, he served as chief censor for a month and then commanded the AIF’s 4th Brigade in Egypt, Gallipoli and France, first as a colonel, and from July 1915, as a brigadier-general. In July 1916 on promotion to major general he took command of the AIF’s newly raised 3rd Division in England. The division was deployed to France in November.
At the beginning of June 1918, Monash left his successful two-year command of the 3rd Division to take over the (five division–strong) Australian Corps on promotion to lieutenant general.
Like all militia officers in the AIF, Monash’s wartime ranks were temporary promotions. He retained his pre-war substantive rank of colonel until being permanently promoted to lieutenant general when transferred to the unattached list on 1 January 1920.
There’s no doubt that Monash was a brilliant and innovative thinker based on his intellect; his arts, engineering and law degrees; and his considerable business experience. His diverse and lengthy militia experiences gave him an unusually good grounding in the command of troops and of tactical, logistical, and terrain-analysis principles.
He arrived on the Western Front as the British Empire and French armies progressively absorbed the lessons of 1914–1916. They implemented technologies not previously available or still maturing (such as predicted artillery fire, aircraft, and tanks) and more sophisticated methods of operational and logistical planning, command and control.
Monash took over the Australian corps at the top of its game after the last German offensive capable of winning the war had failed. Monash also worked under capable field army and theatre commanders—Rawlinson and Haig, each of whom respected the other’s professionalism and methods.
Claims that Monash ‘won the war’ or was the lone or prime innovator on the Western Front don’t stand up to critical scrutiny. The reality is that he worked within a professional milieu that enabled him to maximise his undoubted capabilities for corps-level command. If the war had continued into 1919, he may have won command of a field army and promotion to full general, but not theatre command and promotion to field marshal.
The proposal to further promote Monash posthumously to field marshal surely demeans him by exaggerating, misplacing or misrepresenting his brilliant record. It also risks demeaning others.
The first Australian-born officer to command a division wasn’t Monash, it was Sir Harry Chauvel. He won his corps command and promotion to lieutenant general in the Middle East a year before Monash did. Chauvel also headed our army from 1923 to 1930 and was Inspector-General of the Volunteer Defence Corps during the period 1940–1945 (dying in the job). As chief of the general staff he chaired the defence committee that advised the government—accurately and in detail—why primarily basing Australia’s defence on an imperial fleet base in Singapore was doomed to fail.
Chauvel thrived at the national and strategic levels of command in which Monash, by no fault of his own or of anyone else, was never tested nor desired to exercise command.
Moreover, Monash—then retired for seven years—was only promoted to full general in November 1929 at Chauvel’s insistence. As the defence force’s senior officer, Chauvel advised the government that he couldn’t be promoted without Monash being included as a courtesy to his World War I record.
And what about the case of General Sir Vernon Sturdee, the army chief who held the defence of Australia together in late 1941 and early 1942 amid widespread national alarm from the cabinet down to the street? Sturdee’s record then and later in Washington and New Guinea is continually ignored, with John Curtin alone given credit for key strategic decisions that he took that were principally based on Sturdee’s firm professional advice as the government’s senior military adviser.
Over 20 years working with expert military historians from the Australian War Memorial, the Army History Unit, the Australian Defence Force Academy and various universities, I haven’t heard of one who believes that Monash is somehow underappreciated, inappropriately honoured or that he’s been otherwise unfairly treated in our national historical record. Or that he was the victim of sustained anti-semitism, professional jealousy or other biases in life or death. Monash himself denied this in his retirement.
The two most authoritative biographies of Monash by Geoffrey Serle and Peter Pedersen detail his many strengths and achievements, and record his human flaws. They also refute both the themes and claims made by those pushing Monash mythology rather than facts, context or historically informed perspectives. Monash himself specified that his gravestone was to read only ‘John Monash’ with no title, rank or awards.
We should respect Monash’s wishes, his judgement and the considered views of his respectful peers across the world at the time.
From clockwork mouse to strategic capability in 50 years
On Friday 18 August, around 300 people will gather at the former site of HMAS Platypus in Sydney Harbour. On that date 50 years ago, the HMAS Oxley arrived in Australia, marking the start of the current era of submarine operations in Australia. The new naval base was formally named HMAS Platypus in a commissioning ceremony held on 18 August 1967. The selection of the name Platypus perpetuated a long association between the on-again-off-again RAN submarine service and two previous submarine tenders, both named Platypus, that sustained the J-class submarines based at Corio Bay, Geelong, during the 1920s.
For 32 years, nine submarines operated from Platypus: six Australian Oberon-class boats (Oxley (II), Otway (II), Ovens, Onslow, Orion and Otama) and HM Submarines Trump, Tabard and Odin. The base also hosted a number of submarine and ship visits.
The headquarters of the Commander Australian Submarine Squadron was relocated to HMAS Stirling in 1994. That foreshadowed the introduction into service of the new Collins-class submarines and a strategic decision to relocate the RAN submarine squadron to Fleet Base West, Garden Island, WA, in support of a ‘two ocean’ navy-basing policy. In March 1999, HMAS Otama conducted the final deployment from Platypus and the base was decommissioned.
That’s the historical aspect of the event, but what about the strategic significance? Those 32 years marked the birth, the formative years and the maturation of the navy’s submarine arm. Australia became a respected submarine-operating nation. It’s difficult to imagine the challenge that confronted those submariners in the early years. The current submarine debate centres on the technical aspects, including Australia’s design and build capacity. Our ability to operate a modern submarine is never in question: indeed, it would be fair to say that our modern submariners are world-class. But the journey to arrive at such a position shouldn’t be underestimated (or treated lightly).
Certainly, in the early days the RAN relied heavily on support from the RN. Apart from British submarines operating in our waters, our people were RN-trained, though a number of Brits saw the light and came across to the RAN, a tradition that still exists today. But submariners, like the nature of their operations, are fiercely independent. Although the RAN maintained a link to the RN, as well as other Oberon-operating navies, it forged ahead, intent on going it alone as soon as it could.
It must be remembered that the Oberons were acquired by the government of the day for their strategic value, but were initially used to provide anti-submarine warfare training for the fleet, in what were colloquially called ‘clockwork mouse’ operations. The late 1960s and the ’70s were dominated by consolidating the capability as the remaining five submarines deployed to Australia. By the time Otama arrived, the navy was ready to embark upon what was then its most ambitious capability upgrade program. The Systems Weapons Upgrade Program provided a new weapon, new sensors and—probably most importantly—a new fire-control system. Along the way, the Harpoon missile was introduced to our inventory. The upgrade program also marked the birth of our strategic relationship with the US Navy. Now sharing common weapons and combat systems, the RAN’s submarine force was able to demonstrate its professionalism, not only in how it operated our submarines but in how it supported them organically.
If the ’70s were about the submarine force establishing itself, the 80s were about its transformation into a strategic capability as the boats deployed all over the world. A special year was 1985, when Orion deployed north, Onslow deployed to the west coast of the US, and Ovens fired the first harpoon missile from an Australian submarine at the Pacific Missile Range Facility in Hawaii. The ’90s saw the birth of the Collins class but, despite that, the Oberons continued to deploy all over the world. In 1990, Oxley went to Europe and participated in the 75th anniversary of Anzac Day. Exercise Lungfish, the USN–RAN submarine-on-submarine exercise, was born. In March 1999, Otama commenced the final operational deployment from the base.
Perhaps the greatest legacy of those early days was that they provided the RAN and, more importantly, the public and the government with the confidence that Australia could support a sovereign submarine capability. The challenges that Collins faced in the early days are well documented, but submariners worldwide considered it a most capable submarine.
Looking back, Platypus and the Oberons played a significant part in the journey to the strategic role that our submarines play today. To those of us who served, though, Platypus was a home, a way of life and, more often than not, just plain fun. Friday 18 August will be about reliving those memories and remembering those who went before us. The first 50 years of the modern era of submarine operations were busy; I expect the next 50 to be no less so.
The choice demanded by terror
In design and execution, the Paris terrorist attacks pose a fundamental question of identity and belief. This is random butchery for a reason, indiscriminate horror for a purpose.
Only one positive thought can be offered about the brutal slaughter: the fundamental question will be answered in different ways to what Islamic State predicts.
Have confidence in that assertion about the outcome because it rests on history as much as belief.
The jihadists have adopted the methods and the extraordinary aim of another movement that terrified Europe and the US a century ago—the anarchists.
The aim is to overthrow the state and deliver the new age. For the jihadists, it’s to restore the caliphate, while the anarchist vision was of a stateless society, without government or ownership of property.
In the 20 years before WWI, six heads of state were assassinated in the name of anarchism: the President of France in 1894, the Premier of Spain in 1897, the Empress of Austria in 1898, the King of Italy in 1900, the US President in 1901 and another Premier of Spain in 1912.
The theorists of anarchism pointed to a glorious new future while preaching hatred against the ruling class and the bourgeois.
The device of choice was ‘propaganda of the deed’ to strike at the enemy and tear down the existing order. Today the language is different but the method recurs.
Islamic State reaches out to the young shock troops who rallied to the anarchist cause—the lonely, angry and marginalised, who ache for something to believe in.
What can history tell us about the jihadists using the weapons of terror? Quite a bit. Not everything, but much that matters. The present doesn’t repeat the past but it always resembles it. So does the future.
The anarchist grasp of economics was hazy, but they knew who they hated. The religious knowledge of the jihadist terrorists is equally hazy, but they, too, are sure about the many targets they are entitled to attack.
The anarchists were fighting against the mighty industrial states that came into being in the 19th Century. Today Islamic State is seeking to redraw the boundaries of the Middle East created by those same 19th Century empires.
The anarchists sought to make explicit the division between those who shared the vision and all others who were enemies.
Islamic State seeks to strike back at the Western powers attacking them; and even more importantly to galvanise all Muslims. The message to Muslims is that they cannot stay in ‘the grey zone’ of secular societies and Western influences.
The anarchists spoke to a marginal few and repelled the great majority. Islamic State is doing exactly the same. The horror pulls in a stream of young recruits while the great rivers of the Islamic world seek to turn away and find other paths.
In the simple equation of for or against us, the answer is in. The great majority is against, whatever their religion.
While anarchists wanted to abolish the state, IS wants to create a new version of a state in its caliphate. The territory IS controls is known, as are many of its leaders.
Lashing out at the people of Paris was the action of a state under attack, losing battles and leaders. The war against IS just got personal for Francois Hollande. The stakes have been raised and France has a target for its anger.
The nuclear deal struck with Iran looks even more like a practical bargain. In war, an unlikely ally is still an ally.
IS wanted to kill ordinary citizens because each person attacked in Paris was a symbol of French life and politics, and the secular right to decide on your own life.
The jihadists had to go after citizens as representatives of the West or democracy or France because of one anarchist legacy. It’s a lot harder these days to get through the protective layers to attack a president or premier as the symbol of the state.
Since the attack on Charlie Hebdo in January, everyone in Paris has understood the idea that any individual is a target. The result is a resigned determination, much like that experienced in London during the IRA bombing campaign.
As that IRA era introduced the ubiquitous surveillance camera, so Paris is becoming used to armed guards everywhere. To be in France this summer was to have a regular encounter with three person military patrols (combat helmet and jacket and automatic weapon) from the big train stations to the grounds of Versailles.
We were on the Paris–Amsterdam fast train the morning that a jihadist going the opposite direction on the Amsterdam–Paris train pulled out an AK47 but was overcome by passengers. In the modern lottery of life, that’s the macabre chance wild card.
A century ago, the anarchists ended up greatly strengthening the state instruments that confronted them—intelligence, police and security institutions.
Al-Qaeda’s attack on the US on September 11 2001 did the same, giving a huge boost to spending on all areas of security. The much larger and richer Western intelligence community we now have is about to get even more muscle and money.
The jihadists are doing a wonderful job on behalf of Western governments confronted by the libertarian critiques posed by Assange and Snowden.
Ironic that the jihadists have gone off the digital grid, abandoned their mobiles and computers so they can stay in the shadows using letters and face-to-face communication. In the argument over the balance between freedom and safety in the digital age, Paris will further tip the scales to government and increased security.
Islamic State has presented the equation in the bloodiest and starkest terms. If the question posed is either random slaughter or stronger government, the answer is simple. Forced to choose, the vast majority of people around the world will decide against Islamic State, just as they once recoiled from the terrorism of the anarchists.